


A Second of Humanity

by JustAnotherOutcast



Category: Spider-Man (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Devil's Breath, Gen, That's literally all this is, it's wild, plague shit, spidey and a random sable dude have a Moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherOutcast/pseuds/JustAnotherOutcast
Summary: Sable Agents aren’t helping anything, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be scared, too.





	A Second of Humanity

They only send one truck this time, for whatever reason. Maybe Sable is finally getting sick of throwing their troops at Spider-Man only to find them all webbed to a wall half an hour later. Either way, there is only one truck, so five agents max.

Spider-Man takes out the mounted gun on the van first, yanking it towards himself before flinging it at the driver’s side. The wrecked machinery slams into the door, and the door slams into the Sable agent that had been just about to close it. (Really, why do the agents bother to close the doors in the middle of combat?)

The agent falls to the ground on impact, and Spider-Man wastes no time webbing him to the asphalt. Then, he launches forward, dodging a poorly aimed shot as he steps off the hood of the truck and into the agent on the passenger side.

The agent lets out a short shriek, not expecting the wall-crawler to be in his face so suddenly, and he fumbles his weapon, firing wildly for a good half a second before the force of being kicked to the ground bounces the weapon out of his grip. Another beat, and the agent is plastered to the road by a spray of webbing.

“ _Dude_ , watch where you’re _aiming_! Didn’t hit _me_ , but I think I heard a pigeon scream.”

“Spider-Man, hands in the air!” Three more agents have peeled out from the back of the truck, two aiming their guns at him and one wielding a lightsaber. No really, it’s a fucking lightsaber.

“Heeey, storm troopers don’t get to use those!” Spider-Man cries, leaping back from a swipe of the glowing blade. He throws a couple kicks, both of which are blocked by the hilt of the weapon.

In response, the agent takes another swing, and Spider-Man shoots a strand of webbing at his wrist before leaping over his head and that of the two gun-wielders. Without the risk of friendly fire, they unload their guns on him, bullets only missing the vigilante by millimeters as he flies through the air.

He lands and yanks the webbing towards him. The shooters are suddenly toppling to the ground as their lightsaber buddy collides with them from behind, and Spider-Man takes the chance to land a couple punches on the unsuspecting agents.

One of the shooters is out cold, and the other is scrambling for his fallen weapon. Spider-Man lets him, instead focusing on the brash storm trooper who decides to take a swing at the vigilante the second he’s standing again. Spider-Man dodges the blow and wacks the side of the  man’s head with his elbow.

“H—Hands in the air!”

Four down, and Spider-Man twists to look at the fifth. “If I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me, I wouldn’t be homeless.”

Apparently, the agent has no idea how to react to that quip, as there’s a moment of silence between the two. Neither move, staring at each other.

Spider-Man swallows awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “...Aaaanyway..”

The hero crouches, ready to spring at the agent when the man suddenly flinches back to life, aiming properly once more.

“D—Don’t move!”

“Look buddy, you’re the only one left—”

“I said _don’t move_!” The agent is panicked, out of breath and shaking. Not the usual for Sable agents. “You’re un— under arre—sst...”

Then he’s coughing, breath rattling in his chest as he chokes out the words. It seems like the agent is coughing up glass from how painful it sounds. It’s sharp and violent and oh so familiar in Manhattan right now. Devil’s Breath.

“Yo—You’re un—”

The soldier can’t even hold his gun straight between wheezes, and Spider-Man surges forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him down.

“Cool it, buddy,” Spider-Man calls over the man’s coughs. “Breathing’s more important right now.”

The agent can’t respond anymore, but he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to scuttle away from the vigilante. He doesn’t get very far with the gloved hand on his shoulder.

Gently, Spider-Man removes the helmet from the wheezing agent, hoping it’ll help get some air into his lungs. His chest is heaving, his face red, and the sharp inhales between coughs nearly make Spider-Man flinch.

“Breathe through your nose,” Spider-Man advises, practically holding the man up by the shoulder now. “Else you’re gonna end up vomiting or passing out. Maybe both. You don’t want to do both.”

The agent simply shakes his head between hacking and wheezing, pinching his eyes shut as he tries desperately to get air into his lunges. His panic is obvious as he grabs his chest with shaking hands. The gun beside the two is forgotten.

A few seconds pause, and Spider-Man surges upwards, bolting towards the abandoned Sable truck.

“Wh—Whhh—” The agent can’t get any words out, slumping closer to the ground without Spider-Man to hold him up anymore. More coughs cut off any further attempt at communication, and the agent is practically gagging between them.

Spider-Man reappears a few seconds later, pushing the agent upright and shoving a half-empty bottle of sparkling water against his lips. There’s only a small bit of sputtering before the agent gulps down the liquid.

The bottle is pulled away after a second, and he gasps for air, his coughing fit finally quelled.

The two sit on the road for a few minutes together, the agent simply reveling in the ability to breathe and Spider-Man keeping a watchful eye on him. After is looks like the agent isn’t about to faint anymore, Spider-Man twists the nearly empty bottle in his hand to inspect the label.

“Ew. Who drinks sparkling water? It’s warm, too. Gross.”

The agent doesn’t respond, simply glancing at the bottle with a dazed expression.

“Better thank your driver, though,” Spider-Man continued. “His bad tastes helped quite a bit.”

“W—” The agent tries his hand at speaking again, dragging Spider-Man’s gaze back to him. His voice is rough. “Why’d you bother...”

It isn’t quite clear what the agent means, or if he’s even done with the thought, but after a few beats, Spider-Man speaks.

“You shouldn’t be on duty if you’re sick. This thing’s being called a plague for a reason.”

“Why do you—”

“—Care?” Spider-Man pushes the bottle into the agent’s hand. “Hard to say. I shouldn’t, should I? You guys aren’t exactly helping me out.” The statement has no bite to it.

“So _why_?”

Spider-Man shifts back onto his heels, arms resting on his knees as he squats in front of the other. He contemplates his answer, slowly shaking his head. “Guess I’m just too nice for my own good.”

The agent huffs. “Yeah, when you’re not beating people up.”

Spider-Man looks as offended as he can from underneath his mask. “Hey, you guys started it.”

The agent isn’t amused by the notion. “You’re still under arrest.”

Spider-Man laughs, an unexpected response for the agent, before standing. “Correction: I’m still _evading_ arrest.” He doesn’t wait for any more quips or orders, swinging away from the agent on the ground with almost otherworldly agility.

And the agent lets him go. He sips at the drink in his hand in an attempt to sooth his aching throat, leaving the gun fallen by his foot where it is. And when the report comes in about Spider-Man assaulting and subduing all five on the small team, he doesn’t bother to correct it. He doesn’t bother to go on any missions again, either.

**Author's Note:**

> oofta i needed to write something. i didn't wanna go posting another chapter fic either, considering that i haven't finished any of the ones i have..... anyway yeah, take this random whatever


End file.
